


Cart(i)er

by eidheann



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fingering, MCU Kink Bingo, Ocean's 8 fusion, Outdoor Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 10:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14932430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidheann/pseuds/eidheann
Summary: The first thing Sharon did after was reset Natasha's contact from Jailbird.





	Cart(i)er

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap you guys, I wrote something!  
> (I feel like that needs to be said, because... it's been a very long time.)
> 
> Thank you to [capitu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capitu) and [firethesound](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firethesound) for encouraging this idea, and to unforth for being patient with my questions. This is exciting and nerve wracking and my first femmeslash EVER so. *cracks knuckles*
> 
> This fills my I-2 square, Natasha Romanov/Sharon Carter

The first thing Sharon did after was reset Natasha's contact from Jailbird.

She'd never admit it. The last thing she'd said, after that first job when they were both still young and stupid but before they'd proven it by falling into bed together for the first time, was that if Natasha ever got herself arrested, the first thing Sharon would do was change her contact. Permanently.

It had been a half-joke. Natasha had come from an extended found family of grifters, cons, and thieves, and the whole of the family was in and out of prisons like stops on the metro. 

But Sharon was young and stupid, alone in America after her father moved back to the rest of the family in Britain. She'd been bored, and had decided to supplement the money she made working behind a bar with small cons and skimming. 

She didn't need it, but she was bored. Her father had always said she'd inherited her brains from her great aunt Peggy, who'd been a code breaker during the second World War. And the rush of the job, turning a smile and a toss of her hair to the start of a string of lies that might end her up with a wallet or a watch or a key…. She needed that more than the money.

And then she targeted Natasha, or Natasha targeted her. She was never entirely certain who had spotted the other one first and getting straight, honest answers out of Natasha was an impossibility. But they'd spoken, surrounded by the loud music and flashing lights of the crowded club, for an embarrassingly long time before realizing Natasha had been mirroring her exact same con.

Her heart had jumped into her throat; she'd been good enough at spotting people working a con to avoid them, and still worried enough about getting caught to not draw attention to herself. But Natasha had smiled, leaned into her, and tilted her head toward a closed door across the room.

"You're good. Smart. Pretty. I'm Natasha." 

It was a different name than she'd used before, so Sharon had offered her own small smile. "Sharon."

"Yes, I know. Well, Share-bear, how are your fingers? Because I know what's behind that door, and it could be a very good use of our time."

Sharon's brain stuttered briefly, before she leaned in to Natasha. "Not much practice with locks, I'm afraid."

Natasha had pursed her lips, nodded. "Alright, can you be a distraction? Green shirt, shiny, keep him from looking at the door for the next five minutes?"

Sharon let her gaze dart across the room until she found the man in question. She nodded, taking an empty cocktail glass off the nearest table and stumbling drunkenly in his general direction.

She'd been loud, messily, obnoxiously drunk, and had gotten his wallet and one of his large bracelets into her pocket before she was fetched by her helpful friend Natasha, to lead her out of the way.

Natasha had beamed at her as soon as they were lost in the crowd, the expression a sharp counter to her earlier control. "Come on, drop the wallet and let's get a burger. I'm _starving_."

The wallet had contained a couple hundred in cash, and would doubtless be found kicked under a table later. Natasha had been complimentary, buttering Sharon up in a way that she noticed but still appreciated. She firmly deflected Sharon's attempt to discover what had been in the office with "Just something for my family," which had led to a discussion of her family, and their history, and her friends, and an offer to work together in the future.

Sharon had entered her number in Natasha's phone, saving the reply text with a "Sure, but you get arrested, I'll change your contact to Jailbird and never change it back."

Natasha had smiled at that, small and private, and said nothing.

* * *

The first thing Sharon did when she saw Jailbird flash across the screen of her phone was drink. She pulled out a bottle of vodka, cracked the seal because she didn't want vodka that tasted like vodka and water, and drank deep. 

Then she climbed into her old truck to meet Natasha at the cemetery.

She kissed Natasha when she saw her, looking as perfect and fashionable and _home_ as if she'd not just spent the past 5 years in jail. It wasn't the kiss she wanted, the kind of kiss that happened when Natasha's hands wandered, pickpocket fingers reaching into the spaces between the buttons in her shirt, sliding down to play in the heat of her. But it was the first time kissing her, smelling the still-familiar scent of her hair, and Natasha's smile in return was full of promise. 

So of course she followed Natasha when she came up with a scheme. She fell into the space beside Natasha as if she'd never left. As time passed, as the plan gained moving parts and complexity, as Natasha played a game within a game, keeping secrets as she had always done; it was only when Sharon broke, threatened to leave if Natasha risked herself and the rest of them on her stupid ex-, it was only then that Natasha's control weakened. She reached for Sharon, hands fast, tongue quicker. Shoved Sharon back until she stumbled against the wall, pulled her head down to kiss her over and over while her fingers squirmed their way into her shirt and under her bra, making Sharon shiver and gasp into the touch.

Natasha's hands were fast and hard, and Sharon felt like she was two steps behind, trying to touch and squeeze, but mostly playing catch up. Natasha's hand was inside her trousers, sliding between her thighs and moving with a quickness that Sharon couldn't believe she'd forgotten.

"C'mon, Share-bear. You know I'm not going to risk you. This is going to work."

Sharon held tightly, certain that she would fall were it not for the wall behind her back. "You can't get your way just by getting me off."

"Of course I can. I'm right and this is going to work. We've planned this." At that, her fingers twisted, reaching deep inside until the heel of her hand pressed tightly against Sharon's clit, and Sharon rocked her hips involuntarily. Natasha pulled her into another kiss, hand slowing and gentling now that her fingers were so deep. "I'm going to fuck you," she murmured, voice rough, "and then we're going to go back inside and finish getting all of this ready."

"Oh, fuck you," Sharon gasped out. "This is going to explode in our faces if you don't keep your head together. We can't run a revenge with this, Nat."

Natasha twisted her fingers again, pressing firmly and nipping briefly at Sharon's neck, a sharp pain that sent a spark straight down to her spine. "It's not revenge. It's justice. And it's perfect, and already set in motion. It's too late to change it now."

Sharon reached down, grabbed Natasha's wrist. Her grip was firm enough that Natasha's fingers finally stilled, and she took a moment to breathe around the desire to stop, to just rock into Natasha until she came. "If he sends you to jail again, I'm gone. No more Jailbird."

Natasha's eyes narrowed, obviously ready to keep arguing, but something on Sharon's face must have finally been obvious, because her jaw dropped and her eyes went wide in shock.

Sharon wasn't surprised. They'd been together by some definition or other for a great deal of time, but had never talked about it. Natasha's eyes darted nervously around and Sharon gave her wrist a gentle tug, trying to disentangle them.

The movement did something, however, and Natasha narrowed her eyes at Sharon, fingers picking up their earlier pace. "No, I'm fucking you, then we're going inside. We're going to _finish this_ and then when we're done…. How do you feel about San Francisco?"

"San Francisco?" Sharon asked, trying to talk around the feeling ratcheting tighter within her. 

"You. Me. A few million dollars." She punctuated each word with a press of her hand, leaving Sharon trembling. "San Francisco."

"Fuck!" Sharon's thighs clenched and she hunched forward, face pressed tightly into Natasha's neck as the feeling crested inside her.

"Yes, that's what I thought." Natasha pressed a kiss, more gentle than she usually used, against Sharon's head. "Summer in San Francisco has such a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Fuck you," Sharon gasped again, but reached out, holding Natasha tightly.

"I know."

* * *

The first thing she did after was reset Natasha's contact from Jailbird.

She was alone on the road, new motorcycle taking her west. She was going the long way: enjoying the road and the trip. She kept mostly to the smaller roads, the byways with kitschy tourist stops advertising balls of string or plaster dinosaurs. 

She'd received one text from Natasha after they went their separate ways: a photograph of a champagne flute, a diamond bracelet, and the Golden Gate in the background. Sharon had smiled, changed the contact to Cart(i)er, and headed west.


End file.
